Outlaw Olympics
by InsideOutlaw
Summary: Who knew outlawing was such hard work? Certainly not the Devil's Hole gang.


"Got the tools loaded?" asked the Kid as he stood amidst a flurry of activity in the Hole. Outlaws scurried from one building to the next; gathering their gear, packing their horses, and preparing for the latest Hannibal Heyes plan.

"Yep. I got the flat-heads and Wheat's got the spades. Lobo's carryin' the picks," said Kyle, stopping long enough to spew a brownish stream of chaw into the dust of the yard before rushing off to the bunkhouse.

"Good. Let the boys know we're pulling out in an hour. Anyone not ready gets left behind and left out of the loot," Curry called out loudly to the small outlaw as he retreated. The Kid turned his back on the frantic scene and walked into the leader's cabin. There, he found his partner leaning over the kitchen table, his hands resting on either side of a detailed diagram. "Heyes, it's almost time to go. You still haven't packed up your gear."

"I know, I just want to go over these plans one last time," said Heyes, not lifting his head from his perusal. "If we don't get the explosives placed perfectly, this bridge ain't gonna come down. I can't risk only damaging it and having that train run across it."

Curry nodded his agreement. The last thing either of them wanted was to hurt or kill anyone in order to pull a job. A train wreck would be a disaster. He wondered what Heyes had planned. He'd been characteristically vague when he outlined the plan to the men a couple of days ago, but he'd also evaded further questions from the Kid. Knowing his partner, that meant only one thing—he knew he wasn't going to like this plan. Still, he hadn't pushed. Heyes had only been leader a short time and the responsibility was resting heavily on his shoulders. The last thing the Kid wanted to do was add to his partner's stress.

He went into Heyes' bedroom and began pulling out clothes and stuffing them into the brocaded carpetbag his partner favored. Spying their grandfather's silver pocket watch on top of the pine dresser, he scooped it up, grabbed the bag, and walked back into the living room of the leader's cabin. "Here," he said, getting Heyes to look up at him.

He tossed the watch and Heyes caught it in one hand and shoved it in his vest pocket. "Thanks, Kid. Mind making sure the boys got everything? I'll be out in a minute." The dark head swiveled back to the diagram on the table and everything else was forgotten.

The Kid shook his head and mumbled, "Already did." He left the cabin with the carpetbag in hand.

OOOOOOOOOO

"How much further is it, Heyes?" asked Hank with a decidedly whiny note to his voice. They'd been riding hard for four days and he was tired. Heyes had said he wanted to get there fast enough to give the horses some rest before the job so they'd be fresh for the getaway, but this was as bad as having a posse chasing them. Hank could feel a blister coming up in a very inconvenient place and he wriggled in his saddle trying to get more comfortable.

"We're almost there," snapped Heyes. Sometimes it was like travelling with a gang of three-year olds instead of hardened criminals. He glanced at his partner and rolled his eyes. The Kid grinned back at him and he felt his spirits rising again. This is what he lived for even if his men didn't; planning the perfect theft, working out all the details, the thrill of pulling the job, and the sense of accomplishment at getting away with it all. The money was secondary, but welcomed, too.

This job had been a tough one to plan. The train was carrying a load of gold from the mines in Cripple Creek down Clear Creek Canyon to the mint in Denver, Colorado. The canyon was steep and formed a corridor of cliffs along either side of the tracks making it a difficult location to pull a job, but the loot was too good to resist. This end of the canyon, access was difficult but not impossible. At the other end of the canyon lay the town of Golden, much too close and too well-staffed with lawmen. He'd come up with a workable plan, but it wasn't one his men were going to be happy with and he'd conveniently omitted the details when he briefed them on the job. The level of grumbling he was going to endure would be ridiculous.

"Whoa," said Curry, simultaneously lifting his arm to signal a halt and pulling his gelding to a sliding stop.

"Praise the lord," said Preacher, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The other outlaws came to a stop and gathered around their two leaders. They were perched on an overlook and could see the canyon snaking its way down this side of the Continental Divide; the chasm flowing east with the river that carved it. Far below them, were a set of train tracks perched on a narrow shelf of land parallel to the creek and leading to a tall bridge that spanned the roiling water at a steep drop-off where the tracks crossed to the other side.

"How're we gonna get down there?" asked Wheat.

Heyes pointed to the west and a narrow, precariously cut trail snaking down the cliff face.

"What the hell…you tryin' to kill us all, Heyes?" blustered the biggest outlaw.

"We can't take the horses down that," objected Lobo. Preacher kept quiet; he'd learned a long time ago that saying 'can't' to Heyes was like throwing down the proverbial gauntlet.

"We're hiking it," said Heyes, dismounting and handing his reins to Hank, who'd been tasked with caring for the horses. He would take them to a nearby meadow and turn them loose in hobbles to graze for a while. That night, he'd bring them in, grain them well, and make sure they were tacked up and ready to go before dawn. This was the best job and he'd won it fair and square, by selecting the longest match Heyes had held in his fist last night. Glancing down the deep cut in the earth before him, he forgot all about his saddle sores, feeling lucky to have gotten off so easy.

"You heard him, boys," yelled the Kid, "Start unpacking the gear and get ready to walk. If you've got to relieve yourself, do it now. We ain't stopping for nothing on that trail."

"I ain't hikin' down that," snapped Lobo.

Curry's eyes turned cold and he slipped the safety off his gun, squaring up to the man. "What did you say?" He could see Heyes talking to Wheat fifty yards away, looking down below them.

"C'mon, Kid, Heyes didn't say nothin' about hikin'," Lobo kept his hands well away from his gun as he spoke. "That's gotta be a three miles. We won't be able to walk by the time we get down there."

"If you don't walk now, I can guarantee you, you won't have to worry about walking again," said the Kid, leaving his threat hanging.

"&#$!%" Lobo turned and stomped away cussing. Preacher and Kyle watched him go and then docilely went to unpack the horses. They weren't about to make any objections now that Lobo had pissed the Kid off.

Curry sighed and glanced over at his partner and the biggest outlaw in the gang.

"I want the last one perpendicular to that pine there. Use some of that scrubby sage to hide it, got it?" Heyes pointed to a lone tree several hundred feet down the tracks.

"Got it, Heyes."

"We need to be done before five tonight. The evening train's due through at six. I don't want any sign of work to alert the engineer. We can relax after that until the sun comes up."

"I'll see that it's done by four," said Wheat. He walked back to his horse to gather his gear. He could hear Lobo grumbling under his breath about the hike and he smiled. "If'n I was leader of this gang, you wouldn't be hikin' no cliff."

Lobo just glared at him and walked away.

"Hey, what'd I do?" said Wheat to Preacher, who shook his head.

"It ain't what you did, Wheat, it's what you don't do," said Preacher, leaving as well.

"Huh? What's that supposed to mean?" said the mustached man, resting his fists on his hips and looking at his small, tobacco-chewing partner for an answer.

"I reckon if'n you want to be leader, Wheat, you're gonna have to learn how to say no to Heyes for the rest of us."

An hour and a half later, a gang of dusty, sore outlaws trickled down the last pitch of the treacherous trail and gathered around their leader at the bottom.

"See, that wasn't so bad," said the Kid unconvincingly. His feet were killing him. Stacked-heeled cowboy boots weren't meant for walking. He looked enviously at his partner's tall, black, flat-heeled boots. Leave it Heyes to forget to mention a hike. Even to him.

Kyle looked at his scraped hands. He'd fallen, halfway down, and only Preacher's quick reflexes had saved him from tumbling to his death. He looked at the long, twisting trail. How the hell did Heyes plan to get back up it with a shipment of gold? He wasn't any happier than the other men being kept in the dark about so much of the plan. Heyes was up to something they weren't gonna like.

His supposed partner was still toadying up to the new leader of the Devil's Hole gang. The two men had walked off together and had their heads together. He was getting irritated with Wheat himself. The man had complained the whole way down, but far enough out of Heyes' and the Kid's range that they couldn't hear him. Ever since the gang had voted Heyes in as leader last spring after the law got Big Jim, Wheat had been playing on both sides of the fence. He said he was taking Heyes' measure, looking for his weak spots. So far it didn't look to the rest of the gang like Heyes had any weak spots. Heck, he even had Kid Curry watching his back. It looked to Kyle like Wheat was currying favor with his new boss and all it had gotten him was laughed at behind his back by the other men.

Preacher wearily dropped his pack and stretched his neck and shoulder muscles. They must've each humped fifty pounds down that hillside. He prayed that they wouldn't be carrying more weight back up it.

Lobo, too, dropped the bundle of bronze pickaxes he'd been carrying and glanced around. The landscape was barren except for a few willows here and there. When the train came through, there'd be no place to hide. What was Heyes thinking?

"All right, gather round, and listen up," yelled Wheat. He watched the surly men slinking over to him and Heyes. Heyes had his diagram out and was studying it, ignoring his men. They were going to hate this part of the plan. Wheat knew he did. It might just be enough for them to make him the new leader. He caught the Kid looking at him speculatively and his smarmy smile widened into an innocent grin. "Hurry it up, boys, we've got work to do."

"What kind of work?" asked Lobo.

Wheat was really enjoying himself now. This was what he'd been waiting for. "Heyes, here, wants us to dig ourselves some trenches. Make 'em three feet wide by six feet long and at least three deep. You and Preacher are digging one over by that pine tree, me and Kyle will dig up ahead on this side of the bridge. Heyes and the Kid will dig right over there," he said, pointing towards the cliff.

"What?!" said the Kid, turning quickly to his partner. Heyes smiled benignly at him and nodded. "You didn't say anything about digging. I thought we'd be using those pickaxes on the rails."

"You thought wrong," said Heyes. "We need places to hide until the train's stopped. You see anywhere to hide? We're digging."

"I'd like a word with you." Curry marched over, grabbed his partner by the elbow, and dragged him a few feet away from the men. "You make these men dig all day and you'll be looking at a mutiny."

"You'll keep 'em in line, Kid."

"Let me be real clear here, Heyes. You make me dig all day and I'll be leading that mutiny."

"Is that any way to talk to your new leader?" Heyes grinned.

"You ain't _my_ leader, you're my partner." Kid growled and narrowed his eyes at his infuriating friend.

"And I'll be digging right alongside you, partner." Heyes picked up one of the spades and a pickax and walked over to the cliff to begin digging. "All right, boys, grab your shovels and get diggin'," he hollered, "First ones done, get a bottle of my best whiskey and the rest of the day off."

Preacher smiled, "Now you're talking!" He grabbed a shovel for himself and Lobo, leading the way to the pine tree.

"C'mon, Wheat, they's gonna get ahead of us," said Kyle, grabbing his tools and hurrying towards the bridge.

Heyes hadn't said anything to Wheat about good whiskey. Damn it, the man knew how to handle his men. He grabbed a pickaxe and a shovel and rushed after Kyle, telling him to wait up.

Hours later, a cheer went up from the direction of the pine tree and Lobo and Preacher nearly ran back to their leader to receive their reward. As promised, Heyes produced a bottle of fine Scotch whiskey and the two tired men went to sit in the shade cast by the cliff towering over them so they could enjoy their prize.

It took Heyes and the Kid another twenty minutes to finish their pit and, by then, Wheat and Kyle had straggled in. They'd heard Lobo and Preacher hooting and hollering and had taken their time finishing their task knowing that they had more work out ahead of them. Wheat was picking at his blisters, but Kyle wore a happy smile. He knew what came next. Dynamite.

"Good work," said Heyes. "Get yourself a canteen and go cool off while the Kid and me take a look at your trenches." He watched the two men get settled and then turned to his sweating, scowling partner. The Kid hadn't said a word to him while they were working and he knew he'd hear more than a few now. "C'mon. You can chew me out on the way over." He picked up his own canteen, unscrewed it, and handed it to his partner.

"I'm too hot and too tired to bother chewing you out. Just tell me there ain't no more digging to do," said an exhausted Kid.

"There ain't no more digging to do," said Heyes before chuckling, "Now, you gotta climb."

"What?!"

OOOOOOOOOO

"Put the next one four feet to your right," yelled Heyes. "No, to your right. Your right, Kyle. Dammit. Towards Wheat. Good." He stood on the left bank of the bridge and directed his partner and his two men while holding the diagram. "Kid, yours goes six feet from that left-hand stanchion. Easy now, take your time. We aren't in any hurry," he said as his best friend clung to the tall bridge above him and fumbled for the next trestle before steadying himself. He saw the curly blond head look down at the sheer drop below him and, a second later, heard some inventive language floating through air in his direction. Satisfied, he smiled to himself. They would be ready ahead of time.

He watched the three men carefully work their way back down to solid ground using the framework of the bridge as an ersatz ladder. The Kid made it down first, gave his partner a disgusted look, and walked around him without a word, heading back to the two slightly drunken outlaws who'd been cheering them on. While inebriated, Preacher and Lobo were smart enough to shut up as the Kid walked past them to the water. He took off his hat and plunged his head into the icy, snow-melted water, coming up sputtering and shaking his hair. Seconds later, Wheat and Kyle joined him, splashing water on their sweat-soaked clothes.

Wisely, Heyes avoided his partner and his men for the next hour and worked on making dinner out of a salted haunch of pork he'd brought, some wild onions he'd gathered yesterday, and some canned beans. The aroma of the meal beckoned his men and they soon joined him at the fire ring he'd built as they'd looked on. He went to his pack and pulled out two more bottles of good whiskey, opening them both, and passing them around. It wasn't long before spirits were first drained, and then lifted, and talk blossomed around the warm fire. He leaned back against his pack and closed his eyes. He opened them again as he felt his partner settle next to him.

"How come you didn't tell me what you had planned, Heyes?" asked the Kid. He was hurt by his partner's reticence and couldn't keep the resentful tone from his voice.

Heyes smiled at him. "I wasn't sure what I had planned until we got here, Kid. This was one of two plans and I didn't want to upset anyone unnecessarily."

"Even me?" said the Kid, frowning.

"Hey, aren't you the one who says 'as long as it ain't too hard on my back?'"

A slow smile formed at the corners of Curry's mouth. "I reckon I have to admit I would've been bellyachin' the whole way here."

Heyes stared across the flames at his gang. "This has to go well, Kid. Those yahoots'll cut our throats in our sleep if we mess this up."

"It'll go fine."

"How do you know?" Heyes looked at his partner, skeptically.

"'Cause you planned it. Now shut up and pass me that bottle you're holding."

At dawn, Heyes was up and standing by the tracks when the Kid rolled over and opened his eyes. He saw his dark-haired friend bend down and put a hand on the rail then look west down the tracks. Heyes stood up and walked back to the fire ring. There were no flames this morning. They couldn't risk the smoke alerting anyone of their presence. There'd be no hot coffee to warm their bellies, only the thought of all that gold they'd be hauling out of here.

"All right, boys, rise and shine," said Heyes, as he walked about, kicking booted feet, and rousing his men. "There's cold biscuits and jerky for breakfast, but we'll be eating steak and drinking champagne by dinner."

Groans and grumbles greeted this statement as shaggy, sleep-worn heads popped out of bedrolls.

"Kyle, you and Wheat roll up the bedrolls and get rid of them. Lobo, you and Preacher sweep this camp clean. I don't want to see any signs we were here. Train'll be coming along in an hour so get your butts moving." He turned to the inert bedroll occupied by his partner and knelt down, shaking its occupant's shoulder. "Kid, c'mon, get up. You're setting a bad example for the men."

"Will I be setting a bad example if I tear your arm off, Heyes?" Curry blinked his eyes open.

"I believe so," grinned Heyes.

"Ugh," groaned the Kid, "my aches have aches. Why did I ever let you talk me into outlawing? Into anything?"

"It's a serious character flaw, Kid." Heyes stood up and reached down to pull his partner to his feet. The Kid yawned as Heyes whisked away the bedroll and tossed it to a waiting Kyle.

"All right, everyone to their holes. Kyle, when the engine passes you and Wheat, hit the plunger. Remember, you don't come out until you hear explosion. Count to ten so the train can stop and then run for it."

Heyes stood in the center of the camp with the Kid and watched as his men concealed themselves in their trenches. Pleased that he could no longer see them, he walked back to the tracks and put his booted foot on the rail. Smiling, he said, "Train's coming. Let's go." He laughed happily and jumped into his own trench; the Kid following a second later.

They were smiling at each other as they heard the train whistle as it entered the canyon. From their hole in the ground, they could feel the vibrations of the approaching engine and their anticipation sharpened.

OOOOOOOOOO

It went like clockwork. The bridge blew on schedule, causing the short, two-car train to stop just short of the ruined structure. The explosion had caused such confusion that the outlaws managed to leap on board and take charge of the train before the guards knew what was going on. Not a shot had been fired.

Heyes was grinning broadly as he held his gun on the engineer while his partner kept the stokerman covered and the train backed down the track away from the caved-in bridge, reversing its course. He had already searched the compartment, discovering several concealed weapons he'd tossed out the window.

As the engine rolled backwards and the train emerged from the upper end of the canyon, Heyes pushed his gun into the engineer's back and ordered, "Stop here. We're getting off." The surprised man hauled back hard on the brakes, causing them to squeal loudly as the train came to a shuddering standstill. Instantly, a rider emerged from a stand of trees lining the broad meadow to the north and galloped towards them, leading six horses.

Heyes waited as his men unloaded the heavy, steel strongbox bolted to the boxcar's floor. Preacher and Lobo had easily busted it open with one of the bronze pickaxes while the train was backing up. They now passed out bars of gold as the bound and gagged guards looked on. The outlaws hurried to their horses, packed the saddlebags evenly, and mounted up. Heyes pulled his silver pocket watch from his vest and glanced down at it before snapping it shut again. He smiled, pleased with the efficiency of his new gang.

Wheat led the Kid's and Heyes' horses to the engine and waited with his gun trained on the two railroad men as Heyes tipped his hat and dropped down the side of the engine and into his saddle. He also covered the two men as his partner descended and pulled himself onto his horse. "Gentlemen, I've got another ten men in the trees covering us. I suggest you get going now and don't look back. We'll be watching you," Heyes lied smoothly. He produced a dimpled, broad smile, and turned his horse, galloping to catch up with his men. Wheat and the Kid covered the rear as they, too, fled the scene of the crime wearing huge, happy smiles.

The engineer swore loudly, released the brakes, and eased the train into reverse.

"Who were those guys?" asked the bewildered stokerman, adding wood to the firebox.

"A bunch of no good, dirty outlaws too lazy to work for a living, that's who!"


End file.
